On the anniversary of his birth. #itwasalwayslove

I wrote this post for the first time in 2016, shortly after Prince died. It’s still my story. I still feel every word. And I still miss him.

It was always love.

***********

I'm a writer. There has always been something cathartic in telling a story. So in the midst of incredible sadness I am sharing my story with you.

My partner says that she went to the movies with a friend one day to see whatever show happened to be playing and ended up seeing Purple Rain, a movie that changed her forever. From that moment on she was obsessed--still is--and thanks Prince for much of the joy she's had in her life.

My path was not as direct. He had to touch my life three times before I listened.

1979

Thank you for a funky time, call me  up...

On my way to high school driving the first of two cars given to me by my father, the song I Wanna Be Your Lover came on. The music was okay, but the lyrics made my head spin. Chock full of double entendres (I wanna be the only one to make you come...running), I couldn't get it out of my head for days. But trying to balance my perfectionist compulsion with wanting to fit in with my peers had turned high school into a three year long hurricane for me. I had a hard enough time holding on to my shit--I couldn't add one more thing to my burden.

1984

Somebody please tell me what the hell is wrong

The second time I became aware of Prince was when Purple Rain came out. I was newly married and in an unfamiliar place with no friends. I don't have memory of going to or being in the theater (my memory often fails me when it comes to very emotional moments), but I remember  buying a beta max copy of the movie as soon as it came out. I coveted that fat short rectangular box (I still have it), but for reasons I can't explain, I never watched it.

The third time, as they say, was the charm.

1987

In my darkest hour, you can be my bliss

I took a job two hours away from my home and my husband and lived with my mother. I had a great time. I loved my job, had some adventures with my mom (like driving 45 minutes to buy a pizza that boasted cheese UNDER the sauce, not over it), and spent time with my sister and brother and their families. Moreover, every other weekend I honeymooned with my husband. Life moved along pretty smoothly.

Except at night. I started having nightmares. At first they came infrequently, and I barely remembered them. As time went on they grew more frequent and more horrifying. Eventually I had bad dreams every night. There seemed to be two themes--black roses and elevators. Black rose dreams woke me up crying.  Elevator dreams were worse.

I know now that I was reliving sexual abuse I'd experienced as a child. I was in the same room, largely unchanged--the purple walls I'd begged for, music and academic awards (evidence of my hyper-vigilent perfection), and the bed. The bed.

Any time I was alone with my thoughts I thought about dying. What death would feel like. All the years of my nephews and nieces lives that I'd miss. Pieces of my nightmares started to come to me during the day. I searched continually for distractions, trying to save myself. One day I saw an ad in the newspaper about an upcoming Prince concert. I remembered his movie and that song, and how they made me feel. I really wanted to go, but not alone. My sister told me her husband was a big fan (her, not so much) and that he'd probably go with me if I had my heart set. He did.

October 1988

Do you want him, or do you want me?

We had tickets in the Nosebleed Section because we'd gotten them so late, but it didn't matter. The entire arena was filled by the presence of the little, ethereally beautiful man on the stage. I was captivated--couldn't take my eyes off of him. But the music transformed me. He sang of love and sensuality and peace and God and sex. His voice resonated, reverberated throughout my body. I sometimes make a joke, saying if he'd asked me that night for all of my worldly possessions I would have given them to him. But it was the truth.

The next day I went to every record store I could find and bought every tape Prince had ever released. I drove around for hours listening to his music. He didn't become "the soundtrack of my life". He became my reason to keep living.

1991

I want to jump for joy and thank him I'm not alone

I'd gotten a bigger and better job and moved back with my husband. While stalking a record store (my new hobby), I came across Prince's official fan magazine, Controversy. Not only was it heaven on the page with big, color, never before seenpictures of him, but it had a pen pal section. Suddenly, I wasn't alone. I'd found my tribe--men and women who experienced Prince the way I did.  Miraculously, the first person I connected with became my partner. I like to say Prince gave her to me.

Present day

Can't begin to understand how I feel about you, everything I want to do I can't do without you

My life is filled with good friends who I connect with over songs and youtube clips, through marriages and divorce, through children and grandchildren, over the mountains that life put in front of our best efforts and under the bridges that we've fallen from. When we're happy, we listen to his music and watch his movies. When we're sad, we do the same. Since his passing, we cling to each other and assure ourselves we'll get through this, and that we'll find joy again.

I've seen Prince in concert over one hundred times. I have every song he's released, and sometimes multiple versions thereof. My partner and I celebrate his milestones--birthdays, awards, performances. Our annual Super Bowl parties celebrate his 2007 award-winning appearance. Many of our milestones are commemorated with concerts that hold special meaning. There is not one room in our home in which he's not evident, either in fact or by influence. (We're still trying to figure out how to put the Shower Poster in the bathroom.)

My friends and I are asking questions of ourselves and each other. Where do we go from  here? Who will we be, if not Prince Fans? How will it feel to not look forward to his next album, the next concert, the next TV appearance?

The only answer is that his music is a part of us. It's in our cells and are the songs in the background of everything. Our experiences with him and because of him live on.

• Getting his autograph in NYC and almost fainting because we thought he'd levitated, a tiny angel dressed in white.

• Nearly being "rear-ended" by him in MPLS because he was driving too fast and we were going too slow.

• Hearing gunshot and fearing for our lives as we left Glam Slam, his former club.

• Flying to England for concerts and spending a sleepless night at the only after show I've attended.

• Going to his store in MPLS so many times the manager told his staff "Play whatever videos they want to see".

• Grieving with him, from a distance, when he lost his child.

• Meeting our pen pals. (LOVE YOU ALL)

• Standing outside at 2am in line for a show, with some of the craziest and friendliest people we've ever met.

Never say the words "They're gone"

The world is off its axis. I already miss him. My heart aches, and in quiet moments it's hard to breathe. I'm not ready to watch all of the tributes. I can't even listen to his songs without overwhelming sadness. But I'm ready, finally, to say a few things to him.

Dearest Prince,

I am ever grateful for the beautiful ways you've touched (saved) my life and for all of the people that are in it because of you. I'm thankful for your music which fuels my soul. 

I've been blessed to have shared the planet with you. There was no way you could have known, but it was always love.

Peanut butter memories

Today was a long day. Back-to-back meetings, tons of work…By dinner time, I was done. I had no energy left to cook. PB&J won the contest for the least amount of prep and clean-up.

While making our sandwiches, memories consumed me. Not that peanut butter was a common meal growing up. My mom loved to cook.

But it was my father’s go-to snack.

My dad wasn't a nice person. I won’t bore you with the details; suffice to say, he had a mean, violent streak. He was also a textbook narcissist. For him, it meant treating me like his servant. When I was a young teen, I was responsible for making his nighttime snack on demand.

When he wanted PB&J, I subtly exacted revenge. Too much peanut butter and too little jelly, which was more unbalanced over time. Eventually, it was so bad he told me to stop making him “choke sandwiches”.

I did. But my revenge had been sweeter than that grape jelly.

Yardwork: The best of times, the worst of times.

I did a thing.

Tired of being disappointed and overcharged for mowing my lawn, I bought a riding lawn mower. Mind you, I’d never driven one before. In fact, I don’t remember ever actually using a lawn mower of any sort. While I had to learn how to use the machine, I also had to learn the art of mowing.

The good news is I survived it, and so did my partner. Yes, I almost flipped several times (my lawn is very uneven), my partner had to duck shrapnel (I always forgot which side the cut grass discharged), and I inadvertently decorated my street with clippings (see previous parentheses).

The bad news is…well, it’s bad. The cut, I mean. Sometimes, the blade was set at 3 inches. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I sometimes accidentally set the blade to 1 inch. I also couldn’t judge the edges, so there are patches of very high grass in conspicuous spots.

But you know what? I had fun, and for a novice, I don’t think I did too badly. Next week, the end product will be better.

I hope.

An interesting haircut.

Hell hath no fury……

Women in a zen pose, in front of her computer.

For absolutely no reason I’m conscious of, I thought of a bit of family lore today.

It was an open secret in my family that my father, a despicable man on many levels, had affairs for a good part of his marriage to my mom. Apparently, one woman was around for longer than my mother could tolerate.

According to legend, my mother followed my father to this person’s house one night. She watched him go in and stayed long enough to see the porch light and house lights go off.

Her anger grew, fueled by humiliation. She revved the engine and banged the car into drive. She’d taken his shit long enough. She was going to smash his car to smithereens.

As the story goes, she didn’t know how long she sat poised to ram his Buick with her station wagon. But at some point, she took a breath and drove home.

That’s not fury. It’s restraint.

Of course, that was probably the night she threw a hot macaroni and cheese casserole at him as he came through the door.

BTS or Bust

I am positively shocked to report that I’ve secured tickets to a BTS comeback concert in August!. Woohoo!

It was a true supply/demand fight. The online queue for tickets was excruciating. It was, however, worth it. I’ve been ARMY (hardcore BTS fan) for years now. I’ve seen them perform concerts live on TV and live in movie theaters, but so far, not live in person.

As an avid concert goer, I can tell you that seeing an artist in person is a totally different vibe. Sharing space in the universe. Breathing the same air. There’s nothing like it.

Unfortunately, it won’t be all pleasure. I’m a bit older than their typical demographic. So parking is an issue. I may need an elevator to climb to my first tier seats. I’l have to wear my K-95 mask. I’m not standing in line. Not. Standing. In.Line.

And I’ll be carrying pain meds. But hey, no pain, no Jimin.

I have until August to buy high-powered binoculars and comfortable shoes, build my stamina, and pick out what I’m going to wear.

I better get started.

Adults enjoy snowdays, too.

The view from my front door.

In case you haven’t heard, the Northeast of the country had a major snowstorm. Meteorologists were quick to say it wasn’t a blizzard. Whatever you call that storm, we were pummeled with 12-18 inches of snow. No matter how soft and fluffy the weather channels say it was, it was still a foot and a half of disguised water that turns into ice. Digging out was not fun. I’m built to write, not shovel.

Of course, the pillowy precipitation wasn’t all bad. My campus was closed yesterday to give the facilities staff and the city plow drivers time to clear the roads, walkways, and parking lots. You know what that meant, right?

A free day! Woohoo! Sadly, fear of injury kept me from trying to sled down the hill in my backyard. And frigid below-zero temperatures made it unwise to make snow angels. Instead, I read, watched Columbo reruns, made a pot of chicken soup, and played with my dogs.

It was a glorious “not-a-blizzard”. The forecast, however, reports we should see one of those this weekend. Will the fun never end?

It’s about the character

My tendency to binge-watch television shows. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the total immersion into another world. It’s nice to escape the real one sometimes. However, I don’t find all worlds engaging. Not even well-built ones. Sure, I like action as much as the next gal. I like urban fantasy worlds probably more. But for me, it’s all about the character.

Tonight (maybe all night), I’m watching Percy and the Olympians, the series. I know I’m not the target audience, but I’m captivated. The characters are so complex. They have backstories that clearly color their personalities, emotions, perceptions, thought processes, and consequently, their decisions.

Have you seen The Brothers Sun on Netflix? It’s another good example. It’s about two brothers who are charged with protecting their family from organized crime. One of the conflicts in the book is that one brother was raised in the family’s criminal enterprise, and the other was raised with NO IDEA about the family business. Although it’s a comedy, the main characters are well-rounded and nuanced in terms of how they see the world and the choices they make.

This is why I write character-driven fiction. Action? Yes. Romance? Yes. Supernatural elements? Yes. But the characters and their journeys of growth, success, and/or redemption are the heart and soul of every story I write.

What pulls you into a story?

Christmas movies: I have a type

My partner and I love Christmas movies. Most years, we start watching them the day after Thanksgiving and continue each day until December 25th. The first one we watch is usually Christmas Vacation. The last one is usually A Christmas Story. And in between, well, anything goes: Christmas comedy. Christmas horror. Christmas romance. Christmas classic. Christmas heartfelt.

This year, I’ve been paying more than the usual attention to what I enjoy the most. With the exception of Love Hard (I adore Jimmy Cho) and maybe Trading Christmas (Faith Ford won my heart), I’m not a huge fan of Christmas romance or rom-coms. I might be tired of the tropes. Or maybe nothing about them matches my experience, observations, or fantasies.

Christmas horror is an interesting genre. Most of them are campy and funny. Some are truly frightening. I could do without gore, but I like them. My favorites are Violent Night, Krampus, and A Christmas Horror Story (featuring Bill Shatner!).

I may have too many favorite comedies to list. A Christmas Vacation is a must watch every year. It’s on its way to being a classic. Office Christmas Party with Jason Bateman is hilarious. (I just watched that yesterday!) Bad Santa with my soon-to-be exhusband Billy Bob Thornton. The Santa Clause series.

I have finally figured out that my favorite Christmas genre is ‘heartfelt”. Christmas Chronicles 1 and 2 with sexy santa Kurt Russell. Red One with the Rock and J.K.Simmons. It’s a Wonderful Life with the inimitable Jimmy Stewart. A Bishop’s Wife with Cary Grant. The Holdovers with Paul Giamatti. These are the movies that make my heart sing and my soul long for something I have yet to identify.

Although, I can’t forget Die Hard. It’s in a category all by itself. Rock on, Bruce Willis.

My Mom’s Favorite Holiday Cookie

Full disclosure: This is a picture I found on DepositPhotos. I haven’t made them yet this year because there is far too much going on to bake. But I plan to. In the meantime, you can enjoy them.. They are so yummy!

You might think that lemon is not a flavor of the holidays, but you wouldn’t dare say it to my mom. She loved the flavor of lemons and she loved these cookies. She called them snowballs. I’m happy to share the recipe with you.

Ingredients

• 8 oz cream cheese, softened 

• 1⁄4cup  butter, softened 

• 1 package lemon cake mix

• 1⁄4teaspoon  vanilla

• 1 egg

Pre-heat oven to 375.

Let’s Make Cookies!

Combine cream cheese and butter. (You can do it by hand but using a mixer makes it creamier.)

Mix in 1/2 of the cake mix, the egg and the vanilla until smooth. (Make sure your mixer is on low if you’re using one.)

Stir in the rest of the cake mix.

Drop dough by teaspoon onto a cookie sheet.

Bake 8-10 minutes.

While still warm, dust liberally with powdered sugar.

Peter Piper picked a lot of peppers.

A bounty of colorful peppers.

Hot Pepper Jelly. YUMMY

We joined CSA this Fall—Community Supported Agriculture. In case you are like me and this is a new term for you, when you participate in CSA you purchase a share of the farms crops. This purchase gives local farms the means to buy their seeds etc for the subsequent growing season, while you benefit from a weekly haul of produce and other products. It is a risk to purchase a share because there is no guarantee of a return, for instance, if the crops are bad or the weather is destructive. But it’s a cool thing to do because it supports local farmers. We need local farmers to thrive, now more than ever.

A Fall CSA is shorter than the spring/summer version. As you might imagine, the variety of possible produce is smaller too. That being said, this year we have gotten an abundance of food. Lots of end of summer corn, tomatoes and melon, winter squashes, pounds and pounds of potatoes, cauliflower, cabbage….and peppers. OH MY GOSH. So many peppers.

Because there was no possibility that the two of us could eat so many, we made a dozen or so jars of Hot Pepper Jelly. Have you ever had it? First of all, it’s easy to make. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to do it. Second…it is DELICIOUS. Sweet, hot, yummy with any kind of cheese (especially cream cheese).

I think we might try canning cranberry sauce next. Stay tuned.

Forever grateful

My father was in the military long before I was even a twinkle in his eye, serving in the Navy during the Korean War. He never spoke of it, but given the treasures he kept, it was clear he was proud of his service. My oldest nephew was a soldier in Afghanistan. He served multiple tours as a medic. All that he saw, all that he did, had a profound impact on him. He was never the same after his honorable discharge. My ex-spouse was in the Navy for over a decade. He was an electrician onboard a submarine in a time of relative peace.

Although they all served under different circumstances and joined for different reasons, one thing they had in common was a years-long commitment to defending our country and protecting our rights. My heart fills every time I think of the time their lives were not their own,, the dreams and goals they sacrificed or put on hold.

To the men and women who enlisted or were drafted, or currently serve in any branch of the military, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your service, your dedication to our country, and the sacrifices you made in defense of life and liberty. Tomorrow, we celebrate you.

My heart honors you and is grateful for you every day.

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